At the first touch of the ruling passion, what interest Mannie may have felt for the impatient visitors vanished. “Not in the third,” he corrected briskly. “Keene entry win the third.”
Mabel appealed breathlessly to the telephone. “What price the Keene entry in the third?” She turned to Mannie with reproachful eyes. “Even money!” she complained.
“That’s what I told you,” retorted Mannie. He lowered his voice, and gazed apprehensively toward the front parlor. “If you want a really good thing,” he whispered hoarsely, “ask Joe what Pompadour is in the fifth!” Mabel laughed scornfully, disappointedly.
“Pompadour!” she mocked.
“That’s right!” cried the expert. “That’s the one daily hint from Paris today. Joe will give you thirty to one.”
Upon the defenseless woman he turned the full force of his accursed smile. “Put five on for me, Mabel?” he begged.
With unexpected determination of character Mabel declared sharply that she would do nothing of the sort.
“Two, then?” entreated the boy.
“Where,” demanded Mabel unfeelingly, “is the twenty you owe me now?”
The abruptness of this unsportsmanlike blow below the belt caused Mannie to wince.